The Alpha Five Oscar
by Clive
Summary: Lee and Amanda accidentally become part of a KGB kidnapping plot
1. The Alpha Five Oscar

Scarecrow and Mrs. King are being held hostage by Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Productions. They were only free long enough to participate in this minor adventure, so I and anyone else who might care to join me, could once again wallow in the delight of their romance...just for the heck of it.  
  
I tried my darnedest to make it just like watching an episode. It comes in five parts, but all are finished and will be uploaded at the same time. Think of it as coming with commercial breaks. It would have occurred just before "All the World's a Stage". Oh my gosh, Scarecrow rides again.  
  
  
  
The Alpha Five Oscar  
  
  
  
To say that George Lehman was skinny would have been like saying the North Pole was cold. It was a gross understatement. As he pushed his bicycle from the garage, even his purple lycra cycling shorts drooped. Shrugging his back pack into place and pressing his glasses against the bridge of his nose, he swung a leg over the bike and shot off down the street with amazing speed for stick man.  
  
Behind him, two men gunned their car away from the curb and followed. "I wish he wouldn't do that." one said.  
  
"Yeah. I hate having to baby sit these Alpha Fives. All brains and no consideration. I'll bet he takes the park trail to see if he can loose us."  
  
"For a guy whose supposed to have brains, he sure doesn't act like it."  
  
They tailed him to the park, where George barreled onto a narrow bike path. The two agents in the car sighed and drove slowly around the park, trying to keep him in sight and beat him to the end of the trail.  
  
George pumped the pedals hard, racing his body guards to the other side of the park. They just didn't seem to understand. They had no conception of fun. But George did. He let go of the handlebars and flung his arms out as he bobbed over the little rises in the trail. Something thumped against his chest. Probably a big bug. He looked down but it wasn't a bug, it was a dart of some kind. He stared at it a moment and knew he was in trouble. He reached for the handlebars and tried to pedal even faster but he could feel the lead already creeping into his legs. The bike wobbled. Another bike rider pulled up beside him, "Hey," he was saying, "are you all right?"  
  
"Yuh." George said thickly.  
  
"Maybe you'd better stop before you fall over."  
  
"Yuh." George repeated. He coasted to a stop and the man helped him off his bike.   
  
"Maybe you should sit down over here." George allowed the stranger to lead him off the path and through the bushes to a parking lot. As he began to sag at the knees, the man pushed him into the back seat of a car and slammed the door. Another man in the front seat was dismantling a dart gun. "Any trouble, Lazi?"  
  
"No. Let's get out of here."  
  
The two agents waited at the far edge of the bike path for a few minutes. But when George didn't appear, they left the car and jogged back down the trail until they found two abandoned bicycles. One swore. The other sprinted back to the car.  
  
  
  
Lee Stetson sat at his desk in the Q-Bureau, his chin propped on both hands. He glared at the piles of folders that littered his desk. He hated paperwork. Hated the word "triplicate". Even the bland color of the manila folders disgusted him. Even worse, much worse, was the prospect of having to work the whole of his Saturday doing battle with a paper monster. On the whole he would rather be shot at in a dark alley, so long as he wasn't perforated in some vital area. A file drawer sliding shut in the vault distracted him. Well, there was some compensation for working Saturday. Amanda King glanced up at him from the vault and gave him a sunny smile. Stetson, grinning inwardly like a high schooler with a crush, maintained his neutral spy face. How could she possibly be so enthusiastic about working Saturday? Sighing, he reached for another file folder. As he opened it, he leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up onto a corner of his desk. He might as well be comfortable.  
  
Amanda King, half obscured by stacks of files loaded on a wheeled cart, tried to keep her attention wholly focused on her work. This little file goes to into storage, this little file stays here, this little file likes roast beef and this little file goes to Lee's desk for his decision. Lee Stetson. She glanced up at him again. He was reading. For an instant, she was seized by a desire to march into the office and see if he was really reading the file or had secreted a comic book inside. She laughed to herself. She couldn't really see him reading comic books. 'Playboy', maybe, but definitely not comic books.   
  
Working Saturday meant she was going to miss a little league game, but her mother, Dotty would be there to cheer for her sons and the extra money from the overtime would be nice. She would spend Sunday with them and there would be other baseball games. Besides, Lee had asked so pathetically. She knew how much he hated paperwork. There was also the matter of the very peculiar mixed signals he had been sending her for the past few months. Maybe spending a casual day at the office would give them a chance to talk about something other than business, for a change.  
  
She peeked over the files. He was still in the same position. He could at least pretend he was working once in a while. She cleared her throat. "When Mr. Melrose said WE were clearing out and updating the files, I thought WE would have some help."  
  
Without taking his feet from the desk, Stetson swiveled her direction and looked over the top of his file. "Someone has to make sure we are clearing out the right files."  
  
"Uh-huh." Not convinced, she turned back to her own stacks.  
  
Stetson continued to watch her, his eyes barely showing over the top of his file. He couldn't help but notice how well her jeans fit. Of course he noticed. After all, he was a trained operative, it was part of his job to be observant. At least that's what he told himself. He took a slow deep breath. Then dragged his eyes back to his reading. What WAS he thinking about? Amanda was his partner. A housewife with two kids. And a live-in mother. He thought he must be crazy. He looked up again. She caught him this time and smiled that smile. Yup, he thought, crazy. Daffy as a duck. It was a new facet of his personality that even he didn't recognize and it made him nervous. And excited. And he didn't quite know what to do about it. He wanted to jump up, pace the floor and think about it, but he couldn't. He was supposed to be working. He was awfully glad that Amanda was there to help. And she was saying something and he'd missed most of it.  
  
"What?"  
  
Amanda gave him a peculiar look. He usually didn't miss much. Perhaps he was actually reading the file after all. "I said, it's too bad you have to work on Saturday. You probably had plans." She was instantly sorry she'd repeated the not-even-thinly veiled inquiry. It was none of her business and she really didn't want to know. But she did. But she didn't. If he just hadn't been so un-Lee-like lately.   
  
Stetson smiled behind the file. He knew every interrogation technique, from the subtle to the brutal and recognized the subtext of her question as, 'Who are you seeing now, Lee Stetson?'. He also knew he'd been sending her mixed signals for some time now and it wasn't fair to her but somehow he'd reached the point of inertia. Fearful of going forward and reluctant to turn back. Some intrepid spy, you are, Lee Stetson, he muttered to himself. "Um, no. No plans today. But - " He looked at his watch. It was nearly noon. "Are you free for lunch?"  
  
Amanda stuffed another file in a drawer and did not look up. Her delight would have been too obvious. "Sure." She replied casually. "Are we checking a hot lead from one of your contacts?"  
  
Stetson was surprised. "Well...no, I just thought--"  
  
She was going to play this fish for all it was worth. It was her turn. "Oh, we're running a pick up."  
  
` "No-"  
  
"Oh, gosh. Not surveillance. Not on a Saturday."  
  
"Amanda, it's just lunch."  
  
She got her face under control and came out of the vault, "Oh. Well, I don't know. We're already playing in the top twenty of Francine's Rumor Network."  
  
Stetson, falling into the game, shrugged, "Well, if you'd rather not...."  
  
Amanda came across the office to stand in front of his desk. "Where are you taking me? I missed breakfast and I'm starving."  
  
"Well, I wouldn't want to add any fuel to Francine's Rumor Network."  
  
She put her hands on his desk and leaned across, "Come on, it gives her something to talk about at the water cooler."  
  
"We're only in the top twenty?"  
  
"Right between Ralph Mitchell's blowout in Turkey and Marcy Landheiser's divorce."  
  
Getting up from the desk, Stetson leaned across the desk until his face was inches from hers. He could smell the light perfume she was wearing and could almost fall into those clear brown eyes. "Wanna try for the top ten?" He couldn't believe he said it.  
  
There was a short sharp rap at the door and Francine, as if she knew they had been talking about her, flung the door open. They both jerked up immediately. Francine smirked at both of them, pleased that she'd broken up...well...surely she'd broken up something, they both looked so guilty.  
  
"Hi, kids." She said, "what's going on?"  
  
Stetson pulled his leather jacket from the back of his chair. "We're going to lunch."  
Francine smiled serenely, "Oh?" The 'oh' hung there in the office air, an insinuation that lunch was more than mere food.  
  
Stetson was game. "Yes, would you like to go?"  
  
"Oh." It deflated her. Lunch could hardly be anything sordid if they'd invited her to go along. "I'd love to, but I'm trying to get out of here early. I have plans."  
  
"Gee, that's too bad, Francine." Amanda said, "Maybe some other time."  
  
Francine dumped another stack of files on Stetson's desk, "Sure." She scurried out the door and they exchanged a relieved glance. "By the way," Francine poked her head back around the door, "before you go, Billy wants to see you in his office." Francine hummed 'Hail Britannia' all the way back to the elevator. It was so nice to get off the last salvo and watch another ship sinking.  
  
  
Billy Melrose was on the phone, wondering if there would ever be a time when his resources were not stretched thin to the point of invisibility. As he listened to the agent on the other end of the line, he watched Lee Stetson and Amanda King come through the outer doors of the security complex. Not only had they developed into a crack team, but they made a really nice looking couple. He congratulated himself for putting them together, despite the Scarecrow's objections. Oh, how that man had griped in the beginning. Now, Stetson was hardly seen without her. But his Section Chief's instincts told him that Stetson was still in the 'just thinking about it' stage. Amanda, on the other hand, Melrose could read like a book. She had weathered Stetson at his worst, endured his blatant womanizing and still remained loyal. It was a rare quality and he could only hope that Stetson would recognize it before she finally lost hope and slipped away. His attention returned to the phone. "....all right, Parker.....no...no....I'll have someone there in half an hour......Okay." He waved Stetson and Amanda through the door. "Right....half an hour tops." Melrose held the receiver over the cradle for several seconds before letting it drop, considering his next move. He looked up, knit his fingers together and gave the pair a broad toothy grin. "Lee, Amanda, sit down."  
  
Stetson's smile evaporated. And he did not sit down. Amanda, however, sank into a chair. "What's up, Billy?" Stetson asked suspiciously.  
  
Melrose came clean, "I know how bored you've been with the reorganization and update of the Q-Bureau, so I've arranged a little break for you."  
  
"What kind of break?"  
  
"Just a little stationary O.P."  
  
"Oh, no, Billy, stationary observation is more boring than filing!" Stetson protested.  
  
Amanda glanced up at him, "How would you know?" she asked under her breath.  
  
But Stetson caught it and gave her a look.  
  
"Lee, I'm sorry, but Parker and Lewis have been out there for twenty six hours straight and they've got to be relieved. I was replacing them with Stuart and Randall but Stuart called in with the flu and Randall has been called away to Turkey...you know about that."  
  
"Yeah, but Billy, how about-"  
  
"Forget it, Lee. Everyone else is sick, busy, unavailable or already pulling assignments somewhere else. Besides, it's only for a few hours. Mendoza and Campbell will be relieving you at five. Anyway, I thought you'd be thrilled to get out of the office."  
  
Stetson glanced down at Amanda, a look that was not lost of Billy, "Yeah, but-" He became resigned, "Who are we observing?"  
  
"The Czech Undersecretary's secretary's second apartment. Amanda can work the surveillance van in the street and you'll be in the apartment next door."  
  
"Billy Melrose, you know exactly what she does in that apartment."  
  
"What?" Amanda interjected.  
  
"Ah, we know what she used it for last week. This week may be another story."  
  
"What? What?" Amanda wanted to know.  
  
Stetson pressed his lips together, "Entertaining. All right, Billy. Do we have time for lunch?"  
  
"Five minutes ago I told Parker you'd be there in half an hour. You'll have pick up something on the way."  
  
"Thanks, Billy." Stetson said dryly as he and Amanda headed for the door.  
  
As they crossed the bull pen, Amanda asked, "Just what are we doing?"  
  
"The Czech Undersecretary's secretary has two apartments...One she lives in and the other...well, you know."  
  
"Not really."  
  
"She entertains there. Trained animal acts...gymnastics meets...rodeos"  
  
Amanda nodded knowingly, "Oh."  
  
"We keep a spot check on it just in case they decide to use it for something else."  
  
"A dead drop? A safe house?"  
  
"Exactly. I don't know why it's important just now, but there must be something in the wind. Sorry about lunch."   
  
The elevator doors parted and they stepped aboard. "Trained animal acts, huh?" Amanda said just as the doors closed.  
  
  
  
The street was lined with tired, old, brick buildings. Their crumbling red faces looked into the street with dirty, broken windows. Most had short flights of cement steps tilting up to their front doors. Both sides of the street were solidly parked with ancient, dented cars. A plain old van with peeling paint was parked there as well and inside, Amanda King sat comfortably reclined in a captains chair, studying the apartment building across the street. The van was crammed full of electronic gear, but most of her attention was centered on the video camera and all it showed was light street traffic. Lee had been right, it was boring. She looked at the nasty sandwich that they had picked up on the way over and poked at it with a pencil. There was a single bite mark on the edge. "I'd really have to be starving to eat that." she murmured. The private phone line buzzed. She scooped up a headset and put it on, "Amanda King's Peeping Tom Service."  
  
"Oh, ha ha." Stetson's voice crackled.  
  
"Heard any good ones lately ?"  
  
"Parker said he thought someone was over there earlier, but I haven't heard a peep."  
  
"Aw. Too bad."  
  
Stetson, also wearing a headset, sat backwards on a wooden straight back chair, his arms folded across the top of the back. The room was filthy. Dusty curls of paper hung from the walls and plaster had fallen from the ceiling in chunks. Soft drink cans and fast food bags cluttered a small table where several machines hummed and blinked. "How about you?" he asked.  
  
"Ordinary street traffic."  
  
Down in the street, Amanda watched as a large delivery van stopped in front of the apartment building and double parked. Across the side of the truck in huge, screaming red letters was "Hi-Top Rental". Two men in white jump suits and bright red high top sneakers jumped from the cab, pulled out the loading ramp and rolled up the rear door. On the sidewalk, Lazi Chebetok watched a moment then climbed the steps of the apartment building.  
  
Stetson said, "Since we missed a decent lunch, how about dinner?"  
  
Amanda watched as the workmen muscled a big crate down the ramp on a dolly. "Hm, what's this?"  
  
"Just dinner-"  
  
"Not you. We have a crate arriving."  
  
"Bigger than a bread box?"  
  
"A twenty two cubic foot bread box."  
  
"You mean someone in this dump is getting a new refrigerator?"  
  
"Apparently."  
  
The two men bumped the crate up the stairs of the apartment building and went inside.   
  
"Now, what was that about dinner?"  
  
In the seedy apartment, Stetson looked into the trash can at the disgusting sandwich he had thrown away. "I though maybe we could-just a minute." Stetson switched his attention to his recorders.   
  
Next door, Anton Vaskov stood in the sparsely furnished apartment staring out the window. George Lehman, gagged and trussed up like a Christmas goose, sat in an armchair. Vaskov tilted his head towards the door and silently glided across the room. When he opened the door, Chebetok was standing there, one hand raised to knock. Before he could say a word, Vaskov put his finger to his lips and tapped urgently. Leaning out the door, his eyes raked the hallway. At the end of the hall, the two delivery men arrived on the freight elevator. They wheeled the crate into the hall and stood consulting their clipboard. Vaskov motioned Chebetok into the apartment and took him across the room to a table where he picked his bug catcher and held it up to the wall. A red light flashed. Pointing at George and then at the wall, Vaskov held up two fingers and almost inaudibly mouthed, "Two for one?" Chebetok smiled.  
  
  
  
Back underground at IFF, Billy Melrose was grinding through the endless paperwork that was part of the reorganization. Francine Desmond, sheaf of papers in hand, rapped on his door and swung it open. "Wait until you hear this one." She said.  
  
"What now?"  
  
"The Pentagon has an Alpha Five Oscar missing." She handed the papers to him, "He left for work yesterday morning and never arrived.   
  
"Yesterday?"  
  
"Yeah, they didn't want to tell us they lost him."  
  
"And now they've dumped it on us?"  
  
"Yeah. I've done a quick check on all the traditional places, but no one has seen him."  
  
Melrose scanned the papers quickly, "Background?"  
  
"George Lehman. Program manager in Research and Development."  
  
"Great." Francine stood there and Melrose knew there must be more, "Well?"  
  
"They wouldn't tell me what he was working on. They said WE didn't "need to know". We're just supposed to keep our eyes open. And ears to the ground."  
  
"Great. Must be damned important." He looked at the photo of a skinny man with curly brown hair. His eyes looked huge behind his glasses. Melrose didn't like how his Saturday was turning out. He didn't like it at all.  
  
  
  
Amanda King waited and watched in the surveillance van. She had heard nothing for several minutes. "Lee, what's going on?"  
  
Stetson, his voice low, came back, "Someone just came in, I could hear them walking. Now there's dead silence."  
  
"Maybe they found something quiet to do."  
  
"Uh-huh. Did you see anyone come in?"  
  
"Well, just the delivery men....and one guy just before them."  
  
"What guy?"  
  
"Oh, just a guy--" Before she could finish, a tremendous crash tore through her line. And she heard Stetson shout, "What the hell--" "Lee!" She shouted, "Lee, what's going on?" There was no answer, just the sound of scuffling and the line went dead.   
  
  
  



	2. Default Chapter Title

The Oscar Five Delta (Part 2)  
  
  
"Oh my gosh!" Amanda snatched up a phone and dialed furiously. She waited as it rang. "Come on...come on."  
  
"Melrose."   
  
"This is Amanda. I think we have an emergency here. I was talking to Lee on the headset and there was this....crash...and the line went dead."  
  
"Stay right where you are, Amanda, we're on our way."  
  
Billy Melrose flung open his office door and raced across the bull pen bellowing, "Desmond! Richards!"  
  
  
  
In the dingy apartment, Lee Stetson lay on the floor, the two Czech agents standing over him. Chebetok poked at him with his toe. "What now?" he asked.  
  
"Now we have two birds in one hand." Vaskov knelt by Stetson, pulled the tranquilizer dart from his chest, quickly patted him down and, finding nothing, stood.  
  
"For about two minutes. He'll have backup on the street and this place is gonna be covered like a dead body."  
  
"Then we'd better get out of here."  
  
"What? We just gonna carry them out? Chebetok asked.  
  
Vaskov shrugged, "Of course. Come on."  
  
  
Down in the van Amanda fidgeted, fighting the urge to leap from the van and rush up to the apartment. Lee Stetson could be in all sorts of trouble. He could be dying...or already dead. The thought brought her up with a gasp. She was only too aware of how much he meant to her, but she was not prepared for the intensity of the pain that came with the thought that he could be dead. Once before, she had believed him to be dead and it had been terrible then, now it was intolerable. Quickly, she reined in her emotions. "No, Amanda." She said aloud, "Let's not get out of hand. Lee said this is no job for a pessimist." The phone jangled and she snatched it up, "Lee?"  
  
"No, Amanda, it's Melrose. Anything happening?"  
  
"No, Sir. I just...I just don't know what to do."  
  
"You're doing it. We'll be there in five minutes, just stay calm...and stay put."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
She hung the phone up and looked at the apartment building, "Come on, Lee," She pleaded, "talk to me." As she watched the, the delivery men came back out, pushing the same crate. Amanda tilted her head at the scene. They were arguing so loudly, she could hear them right through the walls of the van.  
"I told you it was the wrong street!" One of them bellowed as they muscled the crate back down the steps.   
  
In the van, Amanda watched them with nagging suspicion. The two men weren't quite right, but she couldn't put her finger on what was missing. One was carrying a satchel of some kind and she was sure he hadn't been earlier. She turned to the VCR and quickly scanned the surveillance footage back to the original arrival of the delivery men. She froze a frame and stared at it. "Shoes." She said. "The shoes" She looked back out the window. They had loaded the crate and both men were jumping down from the back of the van. One pulled the door down while the other pushed the loading ramp back. Neither were wearing the red high top sneakers. Amanda rose and slipped out of the van. She waited until the two men were opening the cab doors, then quickly crossed the street to the back of the van. The door locked with a simple lever and she flipped it over just as the engine roared to life. The door was counter-weighted and to rolled up easily. She followed it up and into the van. As the truck pulled away, she heaved it back down with all her weight. It slid to a stop a few inches from the bottom and she left it, hoping it would stay.   
  
In the semi-darkness she swayed with the movement of the van. There were a half dozen other boxes and the big refrigerator crate. She lurched across to it. One side had been cut open and resealed with duct tape. When she pulled the tape the box fell open. Lee Stetson sat on the floor, slumped over his knees. Beside him, bound and gagged was a gaunt man, his eyes surprised. He began squirming and making muffled noises. Amanda ignored him and knelt by Stetson, raising his head with difficulty. At least he was breathing. "Lee? Lee?" His eyes rolled open and he gave her a big dopey grin then faded away again. Amanda put a hand to her face and sighed. He was all right. The other man was wiggling around as much as he could within his bindings. Amanda reached over and pulled the tape from his lips. He gasped for air.  
  
"Who are you?" they said it together.  
  
"I'm Amanda. This is Lee. What's wrong with him?" She worked on the ropes that bound the man.  
  
"I'm George Lehman and I don't know what's wrong with him. Drugged I'd say. He was already in the box with they shoved me in. Do you know what's going on?"  
  
"All I know is we were watching the Czech Undersecretary's secretary's apartment and something went wrong and now we're here."  
  
"Is that the condensed version?"  
  
Amanda finished with George's hands and he sighed with relief. He massaged his hands for a few moments, flexing his fingers. "Just hitting the high points, George." She turned back to Stetson and began working on the ropes that bound him.  
  
"Are you CIA?"  
  
"No. How do you fit in here?"  
  
George gave her a skeptical look, "I asked you first. Are you FBI?"  
  
"No. Nothing like that."  
  
"Oh, I see. You just decided to watch the Czech Undersecretary's, secretary's apartment today. What interesting Saturday's you must have."  
  
Amanda finished with Stetson's hands and gently eased him over to lie on his back. She patted his face lightly, "Lee...Come on....come on...."  
  
"Okay, lady, have it your way." He began working on the rest of his bindings.  
  
  
  
Billy Melrose stood beside the surveillance van, the side door open. Inside, Francine worked with the video equipment.   
  
"Anything up there, Richards?" He spoke into a phone.  
  
"Nothing up here but our equipment. I don't think we'll be using it anymore."  
  
Melrose slumped. "Not that it will do any good, but go next door and take a look around that apartment."  
  
"Right."  
  
Inside the van Francine had the video tape machine going, "Oh, no." she said. "Billy, I found Amanda. You'd better see this."   
  
Melrose climbed into the van and looked over Francine's shoulder as she played the tape for him. On the monitor, the original van arrived and the delivery men jumped out of the truck and headed for the back of the van. For a moment the video broke up, when it stabilized, Vaskov and Chebetok, dressed as the delivery men walked around the van. And Amanda King walked into frame, raised the door and hopped into the van as it pulled away. Melrose rolled his eyes, "Oh no. Francine, get a make on those plates. I want it found. Now. Something must have made her get into that damn van."  
  
  
  
The van moved slowly through the late DC traffic. Inside, Lee Stetson leaned against a box inhaling deeply. "I have a splitting headache." He mumbled, rubbing his face. Amanda, kneeling beside him, reached to touch his shoulder, thought better of it and let her hand flutter away. Even through his haze, the delicate butterfly-like motion was not lost on Stetson. And almost immediately, as one hand flew away, the other floated up and landed on his knee.  
  
"Come on...deep breaths," Amanda coached. She was aware of her hand on his knee, but it reassured to her to have the connection. She wondered if it had any effect on him.  
  
"Who the heck is he?" Stetson inclined his head towards George who was on the floor, peering under the door.  
  
"That's George. He was in the box with you."  
  
"Why were you in the box, George?"  
  
"You first. Why were you in the box?"  
  
Stetson's head ached too badly for him to by toyed with. "I'm a spy, okay? Now, what's your story?"  
  
"George Lehman, I'm a research programmer for the Pentagon...an alpha five oscar."  
  
Stetson threw him a morose look, "Great, just great."   
  
"What's an alpha five oscar?" Amanda asked.  
  
"It's an unofficial designation." Stetson told her, "for someone whose work is so sensitive only two people know what they're working on...that person and their immediate superior." He turned back to George, "Where were your body guards?"  
  
"I lost them in the park."  
  
"You lost them in the park." Stetson shook his head forlornly, "Why did I even ask?"  
  
"I guess you don't want to hear the rest."  
  
"Probably not."  
  
"They have my papers."  
  
"Papers? Papers?" The depressing truth penetrated his foggy brain, "They wouldn't be classified papers, would they, George?"  
  
"Yeah. I had 'em when I left home this morning. It was just so nice, I couldn't resist a spin on my bike and-"  
  
"George. You were bicycling around DC with a load of classified material?"   
  
"Well....I-"  
  
"If this gets any better I'm gonna need a whole case of aspirin."  
  
"Hey, I didn't know I was gonna be snatched."  
  
Stetson swiveled his head slowly towards him, "No one ever does, George."  
  
George went back to watching under the door. "Looks like we've hit the rich neighborhoods." He reported, "Acres of front yard and high fences. We'd better get outta here before it's too late. Can you make it?"  
  
"You and Amanda get ready. I'm going to stay with the truck and find out where it's going. Maybe I can recover those papers."  
  
"In your condition?" Amanda protested.  
  
"I'm feeling better."  
  
"I'll stay." She volunteered.  
  
"No, you won't."  
  
"Okay, I'll stay." George spoke from the floor.  
  
"And you aren't staying either."  
  
"Hey, they're my papers."  
  
Stetson sighed, "This isn't a contest, George. Do you want to spend the rest of your life dancing cheek to cheek with the KGB?"  
  
George considered the information, "Not really."  
  
Amanda looked at Stetson, "How about you? Do you wanna dance with the KGB?"  
  
Abruptly the truck lurched to a stop and outside a muffled conversation started, plainly in Russian. Amanda urged Stetson to his feet, half supporting him.   
  
"I think we're all gonna get to dance with the KGB now." Stetson said.  
  



	3. Default Chapter Title

The Alpha Five Oscar (Part 3)  
  
  
As George began to lift the door, the truck lurched forward again. Stetson and Amanda fell in a tangled heap on the floor. Suddenly Stetson found himself lying half on top of Amanda, his face inches from hers. For the second time in one day. Their eyes locked. He felt the heat from her body, smelled the fragrance of her hair, heard her take a shallow breath. He didn't breathe at all. "Are you all right?" He asked hoarsely. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Instead, she nodded. He didn't want to move, but he had to, the van was slowing again. He rolled himself over and staggered to his feet. Amanda was up instantly to steady him.  
  
The delivery van passed the front of an ornate two story house and pulled around to a service entrance in the rear. It was a huge, ostentatious place with deep verandahs and wrought iron balconies. Beyond the long, winding drive, it was surrounded by a rolling lawn and bordered by thick, carefully trimmed hedges. Past the manicured lawns, the land turned rough and woody and even farther beyond, the grounds were enclosed by an imposing ten foot brick wall, its top laced with barbed wire. Uninvited guests were firmly discouraged. Vaskov and Chebetok, with George's backpack slung over one shoulder, climbed out of the van and hurried up to the door. At their knock, it was opened and they both went in. Watching them disappear from the bottom of the van door, George groaned, "Yeah, they have my backpack." George heaved the door up and hopped to the ground. Amanda leaped out after him and they both helped the still wobbly Stetson to clamber down.   
  
Stetson took in their surroundings quickly and pointed towards the rough wooded ground to the rear of the property and they all sprinted for the cover of the hedges. They plunged through the bushes and ducked down on the other side. Turning, Stetson looked back at the house to see if anyone was following. But nothing stirred at the house.  
  
"Come on, we've got to get out of here before they find we're gone." Keeping low, they made their way towards the rear of the property.  
  
  
  
Inside the house, Vaskov and Chebetok were admitted to a spacious office where Maurice Kutcher sat behind a large desk. Kutcher was hunched over, writing slowly. He glanced up at the two agents, but meticulously finished his writing. Presently he laid his pen down, steepled his fingers and gave them his attention.  
  
Chebetok jerked his head towards to door. "We have your delivery."  
  
Kutcher glanced around the room, "Where?"  
  
"Well....outside in the van."  
  
"You don't leave expensive equipment outside in a van." Kutcher admonished.  
  
"There were....complications."  
  
Kutcher was ominous, "Yes?"  
  
Vaskov pitched in to help, "An agent was tapping us from next door. I thought we could bring him as well." He shrugged, "They're both tied up."  
  
Chebetok dropped the backpack on the desk. "We got the program tests and spreadsheets."  
  
Through thin pursed lips, Kutcher said, "Get Lehman in here."  
  
Within moments, both men were staring up through the open door of the van. Their prisoners, flown.   
  
Chebetok's mouth dropped open, "How? How?"  
  
"Search the grounds!" Vaskov screamed, "They must have just gotten out. Get every available man to help you."  
  
  
At the rear of the property, Stetson, Amanda and George discovered the brick wall turned into ten feet of cyclone fence with three strands of barbed wire on top. With a grimace, Stetson pulled off his leather jacket and handed it to George. "I'll give you a hand up. Throw this over the wire."  
  
Stetson braced his back against one of the fence posts and, lacing his fingers together, he hoisted George to the top of the fence. Flinging the coat over the wire, George quickly clambered over the fence and dropped to the other side. Stetson turned to Amanda, "Okay, over the fence."  
  
"You're staying aren't you?"   
  
"I'm going back for those papers."  
  
"I'm staying."   
  
He looked into those eyes again and saw her resolution. "Amanda-"  
  
"I'm staying. Now, I know you don't think you need any help, but, you know, sometimes, you do. And I don't want to bring up specifics, but I do think I've made the occasional contribution to this partnership...Because that's what it is...a partnership. Besides, an agent never makes a move without a backup." Stetson stood there, blinking at her. "And," she continued, "they know your face."  
  
She had outmaneuvered him...again. He nodded and turned back to George who was waiting nervously outside the fence. "Get to the nearest phone and call this number." He gave him Billy Melrose's direct line. "Explain everything to him. Tell him where we are and that we need some backup."  
  
"Right!" George sprinted away.  
  
"Um...Amanda, let me boost you up so you can get my jacket."  
  
  
  
In the gathering darkness, security guards swarmed the grounds of the mansion, scouring the estate for the missing prisoners. High over their heads, in leafy concealment, Lee Stetson and Amanda King sat in a tree. Stetson had chosen one from which he could watch both the front of the house and the main gate. They had climbed to a thick branch protruding at a right angle from the trunk, where Amanda had settled in, reclining comfortably in a fork. Keeping watch, Stetson stood.  
  
"You seem awfully good at climbing trees." He whispered.  
  
"I have two sons." She said simply.  
  
Stetson placed a finger to his lips then pointed down. A guard approached the tree and stopped. Looking around he leaned his rifle against the trunk and proceeded to light up a cigarette. He stood there smoking and peering around to make sure he wasn't caught shirking his duties. Presently, finishing his cigarette and flipping the still glowing butt onto the driveway, he shouldered his rifle again and strolled off. Both Stetson and Amanda blew out a sighs of relief. Amanda closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the tree. Stetson sat down, his long legs dangling on either side of the branch, and inched closer to her, reaching for her hand. Her eyes fluttered open, startled. She saw the concern on his face.  
  
"Amanda, please, let me get you over the fence."  
  
She shook her head firmly, "I'm all right."  
  
"But I don't even have a plan."  
  
"We'll think of something." A rumble of distant thunder punctuated her sentence. They both looked towards the sky. "Soon, I hope." She finished.  
  
Below them, a limousine pulled up to the main gate. The chauffeur handed a white card to the guard, who studied it a moment, handed it back and waved them through. Stetson watched with interest.  
"Well, something's going on." Moments later another car pulled up and went through the same routine. At the house, a man in a tux and a woman in a gown got out of the limousine. Stetson grinned, watching the second car arrive at the house with a similarly attired couple.   
  
"Amanda," he said, "how would you like to go to a party?"  
  
She looked down at her clothes, "But I don't have a thing to wear."  
  
"Hm, I guess we'd better go shopping."  
  
  
  
George Lehman finally found a pay phone near a convenience store. He stood, hopping from foot to foot and repeating the number Stetson had given him, while he searched for change in his baggy shorts. When he finally came up with several loose coins, he dialed and while it rang, counted the rest of his money.  
  
"Melrose."  
  
"Uh....This is George Lehman -"  
  
Melrose's attention was instantly riveted to the phone, "Where have you been?"  
  
"Kidnapped. I got this number from Lee Stetson-"  
  
"Where's he?"  
  
"At the Czech Undersecretary's house."  
  
  
  
Maurice Kutcher had not moved from his desk. He would have liked to pace, but it would have shown a nauseating lack of discipline. Instead he settled for reading a book. After a brief knock, Vaskov let himself in and stood silently at Kutcher's desk until he looked up.  
  
"They could not be found on the grounds." He reported.  
  
"How did they escape the truck?"  
"I don't know, sir."  
  
"What shall we tell the KGB when they come for Lehman tonight?"  
  
"I don't know, sir."  
  
"What are you going to do now?"  
  
"I have men scouring the surrounding neighborhoods, but if I have little hope." He brightened a little, "We still have Lehman's papers."  
  
"Yes. Perhaps they will post us to Afghanistan instead of Siberia." He sighed, "At least everything is going as planned for tonight's reception. I trust that will go smoothly.""  
  
Vaskov nodded lamely, staring at the floor.  
  
  
  
The lightning and rumbling thunder became more intense, but still no rain fell. Lee Stetson and Amanda King had descended from their tree and had taken up a new position crouched in the shrubs along the driveway. A car approached, just beyond the blind curve of the driveway.   
  
Stetson rose from the bushes and positioned himself in the middle of the drive. With one arm behind him, Stetson thrust his other arm in the air. As the headlights hit him, Amanda was struck by how much he looked like a saluting Nazi. The car slowed and stopped. Stetson stalked around to the driver's window. He bent down stiffly and glared at the chauffeur.  
  
"Ziegler. Estate Security. Please get out of the car and open the trunk."  
  
"Look, the guard at the gate passed us through."  
  
Stetson reached down and yanked the door open, "Get out! Open the trunk."  
  
The chauffeur growled, but got out of the car and started towards the trunk. As they passed the passenger compartment, the window glided smoothly down and a man stopped them, "What's going on?"  
  
Stetson turned to him with a small bow. "My pardon. We have information that an uninvited guest is attempting to attend tonight's reception. We must inspect every car."  
  
"There's no one back there."  
  
"I have my orders. I must look."  
  
At the back of the car the chauffeur unlocked the trunk. Stetson looked in.  
  
"There." the chauffeur said, "Satisfied?"  
  
"Very clean."  
  
"And empty."  
  
Stetson looked at him and smiled, "Not for long." A short, but blinding jab caught the chauffeur square on the nose and he slumped without a sound. Stetson caught him as he fell and guided him into the trunk. Shaking his bruised hand, he gave him a quick pat down and in his jacket pocket, struck gold, a small pistol.  
  
"Ah," he murmured, "Chauffeur insurance." He slammed the lid shut and went around to the passenger window.  
  
The man had his head stuck completely out the window. "What's going on back there?'  
  
Stetson pointed the pistol in his face, "Get out."  
"I will not."  
  
He touched the man's forehead with the barrel. "Get out."  
  
"Okay, okay." The man pushed the door open, "Stay right there, dear."  
  
Stetson pulled the man away from the car and leaned to look in the back seat. A beautiful young woman sat there with her mouth open. "Yes, dear, you stay right there." Amanda joined him at the door, "Now you behave yourself and do what the lady says, or I'll come back and help."   
  
"What?"  
  
Amanda popped into the car and closed the door. Stetson swung his prisoner around, "Okay, partner, get out of those spiffy duds."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Now! And shake a leg."  
  
Inside the car, Amanda looked at the lovely young woman. "I'm really sorry about this, but I need your clothes."  
  
"I don't think so." She snapped.  
  
"Well...." she looked towards the door, "You don't really want him to come back and help you, do you?" The young lady considered this option for a second, but when Amanda reached for the door handle, she quickly began to strip.  
  
  
  
In Amanda's kitchen, Dottie West tapped her foot impatiently. These IFF people were really very rude. When they needed Amanda, they expected her to drop everything and rush off to work. When Dottie wished to speak to her daughter, they could think of a thousand reasons why she couldn't. Or left her hanging on hold. She often thought that while she waited, they were thinking up new excuses.  
  
Finally a voice on the other end said, "I'm really very sorry, Ms. King is still tied up in a meeting with our Hong Kong reps. Could someone else help you?"  
  
"A meeting?...It's ten o'clock!"  
  
"It's ten o'clock in the morning in Hong Kong, ma'am."  
  
"Oh. Is Mr. Steadman available?"  
  
"I'm sorry, he's at the same meeting."  
"Of course he is. Don't you think they're spending an awful lot of time at meetings, my daughter and this Mr. Steadman?"  
  
"I beg your pardon, ma'am?"  
  
"Never mind. Thank you."  
  
Dottie hung the phone up with a glare. She crossed her arms, fuming in the silence of the kitchen. Slowly, she cocked her head to one side, listening. There was too much silence for a household with two boys. "Philip! Jamie! What are you doing?"  
  
  
  



	4. Default Chapter Title

The Alpha Five Oscar (Part 4)  
  
  
The man inspecting invitations at the door looked skeptically at the latest arrivals. "Mr. And Mrs. James Lunde?" he asked.  
  
Lee Stetson smiled faintly and nodded. The doorman bowed them into the house and Stetson, with Amanda clinging to his elbow strolled down the short hall. Squeezing his shoulders together, Stetson struggled to look at ease in the smallish tuxedo. "Mr. Lunde has no shoulders, long arms and a big butt." He murmured to Amanda.   
  
She stifled a laugh. "Mrs. Lunde is short."   
  
Stetson stepped back to look at her. Actually, she was radiant, although the pants suit might have been a bit short. "At least her shoes fit." Stetson shuffled nervously, he was still wearing his pair of brown oxfords and he was feeling exposed. "There's nothing like wearing a pair of brown shoes with a tuxedo."   
  
"Francine would have a cow."  
  
Stetson smiled, they were a gasp away from being shot as spies or smuggled behind the iron curtain for the rest of their lives and she was cracking a joke about Francine. He took her hand, "Come on, let's mingle and see what we can find out."  
  
The corridor opened into a great hall where there were a great many guests milling about, talking and drinking. Amanda tugged on his hand and pointed to a huge buffet table across the room, "Lee, I'm starving."  
  
"Me, too. Let's go." As they headed towards the food, Stetson intercepted a waiter with a tray of champagne and appropriated two glasses. He handed one to Amanda.  
  
"On an empty stomach?" she asked.  
  
"Lots of carbohydrates."  
  
As they approached the table, the crowd parted slightly and standing there was Vaskov talking to several guests. Stetson pulled up and turned casually away, spinning Amanda with him.  
  
"What? The food is that way." She demanded.  
  
"That's him."  
  
"Him who?"  
  
"Him who harpooned me this afternoon. Heavy guy, porking his way through a caviar sandwich." Amanda peeked over his shoulder. "The narrow faced rat with him is Galpin. KGB. Probably here to pick up Lehman and his program."  
  
"He must be having a pretty disappointing evening."  
  
"Not as disappointing as it's going to get." Stetson turned Amanda again so he could hide behind her, but watch the two men.  
  
"You don't think he has George's papers yet?"  
"If he did, he'd scuttle out of here like a pirate with his swag."  
  
"They don't know me, why don't I just go over and get us a sandwich?"  
  
"Wup. Nope, they're leaving."  
  
"Great, let's both go get a sandwich."  
  
Stetson gave her an impatient look, "Later. Come on, you've got to be my eyes."  
  
  
  
Outside in the street, Billy Melrose and Francine Desmond sat in a car, watching the rain begin to splash on the windshield. They could barely make out where the lights of the Undersecretary's house made a dim glow in the night. George Lehman, behind them, hung over the seat back and licked the cream filling from a cupcake.  
  
Melrose looked back at him, "Are you sure this is the right place? The Czech Undersecretary's own house?"  
  
"Positive. Think they're still in there?"  
  
"Until I get word from Scarecrow, I have to assume they are."  
  
Francine sighed, "What are we going to do?"  
  
"Wait."  
  
  
  
Vaskov guided Yuri Galpin down a long hallway and into Maurice Kutcher's office. Stetson peered around the corner just in time to see them disappear. He surveyed the hallway. It was breathtakingly Spartan except for a few long benches against the walls. Amanda's head poked around the corner, "Oooo, boy, do they need a good decorator." Stetson rolled his eyes and pulled her back around the corner.  
  
In the office, Galpin flipped through the pages of the computer hard copy. "Where is George Lehman?"  
  
Vaskov shifted nervously, "He...uh....got away from us...an American agent helped him."  
  
"I see." He indicated the papers on the desk, "This is good information, but Lehman was the primary target." Vaskov shrugged helplessly while Galpin pierced him with a cold stare. "This will not look good on my report." Vaskov bowed at the waist and hastily retreated from the room.   
  
In the empty hall, he hurried away, muttering to himself. After a moment of silence, Stetson rolled from under one of the benches and Amanda rolled from under the other. They both scrambled to their feet, "Amanda, I want you to stay in the hall. If someone comes along, tell them...tell them you're the new decorator."  
  
She nodded and Stetson slipped into the office. Galpin sat in a pool of light, reading the text of the computer hard copy. He didn't bother to look up as Stetson crossed the office, holding the pistol he had taken from the chauffeur.  
  
"What is it now?" Galpin asked, still not looking up.  
  
Stetson picked up the leather case from the desk, "I think I'll be having this and the papers you're reading, too, if you don't mind."  
  
Galpin finally turned to look at him. "Ah. The staff thought you had escaped."  
  
"Give me a minute."  
  
"I don't think you're that good."  
  
"Give me those papers and we'll see."  
  
With a smirk, Galpin tossed the papers onto the desk. "Yes, we will."  
  
"Stand up, turn around."  
  
Galpin rose slowly and holding out his hands helplessly, he turned his back to Stetson. "Sorry, I don't have time to be more civilized." With that, he sapped him hard on the back of the head with the pistol, snatched the papers from the desk and bolted from the room.   
  
Amanda waiting nervously in the hall was immensely relieved when Stetson rejoined her almost immediately. "That was quick."   
  
Cramming the all the papers into the leather case, he propelled her quickly down the hall. "I persuaded him to cooperate."  
  
Voices coming from the stairwell pulled them up short. There was no cover, no doors to shelter behind and the benches were well down the hall. Amanda shot him a panicked glance. Stetson shoved the leather case inside his suit jacket and swept her into his arms. He kissed her.  
  
Unexpectedly, Stetson felt her stiffen. She didn't pull away but she wasn't as enthusiastic as he thought she might be. Not exactly. He pulled away slightly and looked into her face. Her eyes told it all. She knew it was a line of duty kiss and nothing more and she wasn't about to throw herself at a man who so obviously felt nothing for her. God knew, he had told her repeatedly that they were not involved. He couldn't blame her, she had to protect herself. Standing there with her in his arms, a wave of devastating loneliness broke over him. In that moment, he knew he never wanted to see that look on her face again. Knew he wanted her heart more than anything in the world. And knew that to get it, he would have to give his heart to her. His past roared up behind him like a freight train. Why would a beautiful woman like Amanda want a man like him? He tilted his head down until his forehead touched hers. "Amanda." His voice trembled. Then he looked back into her eyes. "Amanda, I'm so sorry."   
  
"It's all right, Lee." She touched his face with tender fingertips. He slowly bent to kiss her again. This time, she was there. Relaxed in his arms. Kissing him like they were alone. But they weren't, dimly, he recalled the voices in the hall.  
  
"Excuse me.....Excuse me. The party is downstairs only." Vaskov said.  
  
Stetson deliberately buried his face in her hair, inhaling the smell of her and nibbling her ear.  
She squeaked in surprise, "I'm sorry," she spluttered to the men, "It was just so....crowded....oh, honey.... down there."   
  
"Perhaps it would be less crowded at home."  
  
"Yes," she said, "what a wonderful idea. Come on, Sweetheart, let's go home."  
  
Still buried in her hair, his lips brushing the smoothness of her skin, Stetson murmured, "Of course, darling."  
  
Vaskov nudged Chebetok in the ribs with a leer and they went on down the hall.   
  
Stetson and Amanda strolled down the hall arm in arm. When they were out of earshot, he whistled softly in relief.   
  
Amanda let out a breath, "Wow."  
  
He looked at her, not quite sure of her meaning, "We'd better move, they were probably on their way to that office and they're not going to like what they find."  
  
They hurried down the hall to the huge curving stairway and started down the steps. The house was now jammed with people and the party was in full swing. Just as they reached the main floor, a disheveled James Lunde, clad only in his under shorts and shoes strode indignantly through the front door. The doorman caught hold of him. Lunde loudly began to tell his story, waving his arms and pointing his fingers.   
  
"Uh-oh." Stetson quickly guided Amanda off in another direction. At the top of the stairs,  
Vaskov pointed down at the crowd. He and Chebetok raced down. Stetson and Amanda hurried into   
the thick of the party, the crowd flowing around them, annoyed by their abrupt passing, but unaware of  
the drama taking place. They worked their way steadily towards an arched doorway and plunged through  
it. They found themselves in a small hallway just as a waiter emerged from the kitchen with a full tray.   
Stetson with Amanda in tow, ducked around him and burst into the kitchen.   
  
The kitchen was enormous, full of hustling chefs and their assistants, stainless steel and the inviting smell of food. The staff barely looked up as Stetson and Amanda dodged around them. Vaskov burst through the kitchen door with a bellow, "Stop them! Stop them!"   
  
Suddenly Stetson and Amanda became the center of attention. A pastry chef, putting the finishing touches on a huge tray of tarts glared at Stetson as they passed and pointed his whipped cream dispenser at him. Stetson snatched up the tray and hurled it at their pursuers, whipped cream flying everywhere.   
  
Amanda, now a step ahead, reached another door, wrenched it open and stepped through, followed, a second later by Stetson. They were on a small roofed porch. She looked at him. The night was pitch black and it was raining hard. Stetson shrugged helplessly, grabbed her hand and they dashed off into the darkness. When Vaskov finally made it through the kitchen to the porch he looked out into an empty rain slashed yard.  
  



	5. Default Chapter Title

The Alpha Five Oscar (Part 5)  
  
  
As they fled through the darkness, they nearly passed the greenhouse. It was a dilapidated structure, concealed by tall scraggly bushes. Stetson skidded to a stop and flung the door open, nearly tearing it from the hinges. He pulled Amanda inside.  
  
The rain came straight down through the many broken panes and splashed morosely on the rotting, empty benches. Stetson led the way to the rear where the greenhouse was attached to a shop and storage area. Here the roof was better and, on one side, bales of old straw were piled nearly to the ceiling.  
  
"They'll be swarming at the fences and going over and under every car that tries to leave." Stetson said, leaning on the straw. Suddenly he looked up with an inspiration. "Okay."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Come on, Amanda, up, up!" He boosted her up and she scrambled to the top of the straw. Stetson clambered after her, slipping into the narrow space on his stomach just inches from the rafters. Amanda sneezed softly.   
  
"You don't suppose we'll be spending a lot of time up here, do you?" she whispered.  
  
"I hope not." He wriggled up on his elbows so he could see out into the greenhouse.  
  
She shifted on to her side, shivering, forcing Stetson to shift as well. "Don't I remember something about you asking me to dinner tonight?"  
  
"I recall something like that. Was that really just today?"  
  
"Uh-huh. I don't suppose you saved any of those tarts."  
  
He shook his head. Amanda shivered again and Stetson struggled out of his jacket, his shoulders banging on the roof and the case of papers cascading out. "I'm sorry," he said, draping the damp coat over her, "it isn't much."  
  
"That's all right." Amanda began pulling the loose papers together and putting them neatly back into the case.  
  
He moved closer to her, lying on his side. She was completely disheveled, her brown curls sticking wetly to her face, straw clinging to the rain ruined evening clothes. She finished with the papers and looked at him.  
  
"Do you have a plan yet?  
  
"No."  
  
"That's all right, you will."  
  
She had faith in him. She trusted him. He was afraid she would be able to hear his heart pounding.  
  
"I'm starving." She said.  
  
"I know."  
"I'm tired."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I wouldn't even care if Francine popped up and said," Amanda put on her best Francine voice, "Well, isn't this cozy?"  
  
Grinning, Stetson said, "You really are tired."  
  
She pulled the jacket tighter and shivered.  
  
The greenhouse door banged open and they froze. Footsteps came across the floor towards the shop. He stopped near the straw and fumbled about for a moment. There was the unmistakable sound of a match being struck and moments later, the smell of cigarette smoke came up to them. The man was there for several minutes, smoking and standing out of the rain. Then his footsteps crossed the greenhouse again and he went back outside. Stetson let out a lung full of air  
  
"Amanda."  
  
"Hm?" she had her eyes closed.  
  
"I'm really sorry about this."  
  
"I know."  
  
"But."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"But, I'm really glad you're here."  
  
She opened her eyes again and smiled. She really was beautiful, wet hair or not. Jeans or formal wear. It was Amanda King, the person, that was beautiful. He found himself leaning towards her, falling and falling and falling, into those eyes and kissing her slowly. "Well," he said huskily, "Isn't this cozy?" And his lips found hers again, longer, deeper, his fingers brushing down the arch of her neck, followed by his kisses.  
  
"Lee." She whispered his name into his ear when she kissed it.  
  
He pulled away slowly, eyes closed. This certainly wasn't the time or place. It would be deadly to forget where they were and why. But it never seemed to be the right time or place. Soon, he thought, he would remedy that, but for now, he had to focus on keeping the both of them alive.   
  
Amanda was looking at him. She could see him thinking, saw him retreat back into his cool secret agent mode and she looked away. It was almost as if he wanted to break her heart, one moment full of passion and the next distant and cold. She squeezed her eyes shut and angrily forbid them to cry.   
  
"Amanda." He said, gently pulling her face back to his. "I - I've been meaning to talk to you, you know....about us. But, just now, I have to get us out of this mess first." He smiled, "You're being awfully damn distracting."  
  
Her heart skipped. She should have realized what he was doing. He didn't want to break her heart, he was trying to save it. Amanda pulled him down and kissed him again. "Okay. I'll stop distracting you....for now."  
"Well, since we're just sort of stuck here, waiting...." He leaned down again but stopped short, sniffing the air. "I have an idea."  
  
"Do you have to have it right now?"  
  
He kissed her lightly and shrugged, "I need a match."  
  
It was Amanda's turn to shrug, "I don't think Mrs. James Lunde smokes."  
  
"No...but I know someone who does. Be right back." He pushed himself over the edge of the bales and disappeared.  
  
The greenhouse shop area was filled with old paint buckets, broken bags of fertilizer, lawnmower parts and an excess of rusty junk. He scooped up a few buckets of paint and returned to the straw pile. There, he searched the floor for a few moments and found what he was looking for. The guard's cigarette butt still smoldered on the floor. He handed the paint buckets up to Amanda and, cradling the cigarette butt, he climbed back onto the straw.   
  
Amanda looked at the paint buckets. "Are we going to paint something?"  
  
"What's a fire without skyrockets?"  
  
She gasped. "You're going to burn this greenhouse down. That's arson."  
  
He gave her a wry look. "Do you really think it's worth saving? Besides, the fire department will come. And....and we'll improvise from there. If nothing else, everyone from the party can roast hot dogs."   
  
"Don't you dare mention food."  
  
He held the cigarette butt close to the straw and blew on it gently. The end glowed brightly and a flame erupted. He fanned it carefully until it burned steadily then began to spread. "Come on down."   
  
They both scrambled down. Amanda handed him the suit jacket and the leather case. "Here, put your jacket back on, that white shirt makes you look like a flashlight."  
  
  
  
Outside the grounds, still waiting, Billy Melrose shifted uncomfortably and sighed. Waiting without sufficient information was nerve wracking. The rain had slowed to a light spattering on the windshield. Francine sat beside him, eyes closed, but she was as far from sleep as he. George Lehman had been, mercifully, sent home with his cupcakes and a guard. The phone beeped twice and Melrose snatched it up, Francine instantly alert.  
  
"Melrose."  
  
"Post three, Sir. There seems to be something going on towards the rear of the estate. I think it might be a fire."  
  
Francine grinned, "He's sending us a flare!"  
  
Melrose took the wind out of her sails, "Maybe it was lightning." Into the phone he said, "Okay, Carl. Keep me informed if anything else happens....and be on your toes. If it is Scarecrow, anything could happen."  
"How are you going to play it, Billy?"  
  
He began to dial his phone, "I think I'll talk to the fire department."  
  
  
  
Galpin stalked angrily down the hallway of the mansion. Things were going from rotten to a hot dark place in hell. Lehman was gone, his papers were gone, and he had a viscous headache where the American agent had mashed him. But all was not yet lost, he grinned hungrily, the agent and his partner were surely still on the grounds. There was no escape route he had not blocked. They would be found if it took all night and their payment would be high.   
  
Vaskov came sprinting around a corner. "There's a fire in the old greenhouse!" he panted.  
  
Galpin was stunned, then furious. "It's a diversion, get your men to cover the walls! Let's get them!" he bellowed.  
  
  
  
Stetson and Amanda crouched in the heavy shrubbery just beyond the driveway. The fire from the greenhouse reflected on the windows of the house, creating a warm orange glow. As a fire engine with sirens blaring, roared up the driveway, guests poured out of the house. Vaskov attempted to herd them back without much success. The rear of the greenhouse was snapping streamers of fire thirty feet in the air, paint cans adding the occasional explosion.  
  
"Please," Vaskov pleaded, "I really think we should go in and let the firemen do their work, please!"  
  
They ignored him, surging forward for a better look. As they stood there, mesmerized by the flames, Stetson and Amanda rose from the shrubs and mingled with the crowd, trying to look normal in their damp clothing. Hand in hand, they worked their way towards the fire truck. The captain was near the truck, directing his men as they began to pull hoses from the truck. Stetson got as close to him as he thought he could without attracting too much attention. "Captain?" he hissed loudly.  
  
The Captain barely looked at him, keeping his attention on the fire. "You the Scarecrow?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I talked to someone named Melrose about you. Hey, Kendall, come 'ere."   
  
A huge man with yards of hose looped over his shoulder ambled up and moved behind the group, cutting Stetson and Amanda off from the crowd with a few unobtrusive steps. The Captain flung open two equipment doors, shielding them on two sides, he and Kendall concealing them from behind. In moments, they had changed from formal wear to fire wear complete with helmets and boots. Then the Captain handed Stetson a hose loop. "You and Kendall string the hose out. She'll stay at the control panel with me." Stetson and Amanda locked gazes for a brief second, then he was away and the Captain helped her lock the end of a hose on an outlet valve.  
  
  
  
The fire was quickly brought under control but the firemen stayed until only a few thin streamers of smoke rose from the rubble. Stetson, face black with soot, glanced about for Amanda as he helped load the hoses. The guests had finally departed and dawn was fast approaching, if they didn't leave soon, someone was bound to recognize him. As it was, the security people were still lurking everywhere. Amanda was nowhere to be seen and the Captain was talking to Galpin.  
  
"Listen, Buddy, I don't know what's going on here, but this fire was SET. And, I can guarantee you the fire inspector will be out here tomorrow looking into it."  
  
"Captain!" Kendall hollered, "We're loaded."  
  
The Captain nodded, "And don't you touch nothin' until he gets here. I don't give a diddly about your diplomatic status." He wheeled away from Galpin and jumped up into the truck, motioning his men aboard. Stetson took a position behind the cab and caught the Captain's eye. The concern must have been obvious on his face, because the Captain grinned and nodded, but said nothing. As they approached the gate, for a moment it looked as though the guards might not let them pass, but the driver gave them a blast on the air horn and made it obvious that the truck was not going to stop. The guards pulled the gate open quickly and the truck slipped though into the dawn.   
  
  
  
Several blocks away, the pumper truck pulled into the parking lot of the same convenience store where George Lehman had made his phone call many hours before. Melrose and Francine stood waiting by an agency car. Stetson jumped off the truck, followed by the Captain. He quickly peeled off his firecoat, reached inside his shirt and pulled out the leather case, handing it to Melrose. He turned to the Captain, "Amanda?" He asked breathlessly. But, even as he asked, he looked beyond the Captain's shoulder and Amanda was climbing down from the driver's seat of the fire truck.   
  
She came to them smiling happily, "Oh! I have always wanted to do that!" She peeled off her fire fighting clothing, still wearing the wet, formal clothing underneath. Stetson swept her into his arms and hugged her with relief. And then stepped back sheepishly. Billy Melrose was grinning from ear to ear. Francine pulled a strand of straw from Stetson's shirt, then cocking her head, pulled several more from Amanda's blouse.  
  
"Have a nice lunch?" She asked.  
  
"Um, we...ah..." Stetson stammered.   
  
Amanda leaned towards Stetson and whispered, "I think we just made the top ten on the rumor net."  
  
  
  
Lee Stetson's silver corvette pulled up in front of 4247 Maplewood and stopped. Stetson, somewhat cleaner, but still in the damp tuxedo, looked over to the passenger seat where Amanda had the seat fully reclined. She was asleep. Her clothes were much worse for wear than his and still damp as well. Billy had not put them through a debriefing. Instead, they had eaten, saying little until Amanda began to fall asleep into her food. Stetson had brought her home, promising to have the agency deliver her car later.   
  
"Amanda....Amanda." He ran his fingers over her hair.  
  
She dragged herself out of sleep with a huge effort.  
  
"You're home."  
  
She squinted out the window. "Home." She said, "Home, bed, food." She looked down at her clothes. "Would you like to come in and explain this mess to my mother? This isn't even close to what I was wearing when I left home....um....yesterday morning."  
  
"No, I would not. Besides, if you're lucky, everyone will still be asleep and you can make it upstairs and get changed before anyone notices."  
  
Amanda nodded skeptically. "Sure."  
  
"Well, maybe you should keep an extra change of clothing at the office....or maybe at my place, just for times like this."  
  
"Oh, you think so, do you?"  
  
"Well, sure, I--" Stetson suddenly developed an unnatural interest in his steering wheel. He was silent.  
  
Amanda brought the seat up, "Well, I guess I'd better be sneaking off to my house. Why do I suddenly feel like I've stayed out all night after the prom?"  
  
Stetson touched her arm to stop her from getting out of the car, "Um...how about dinner tonight?"  
  
"Well, I don't know...after yesterdays lunch, I don't think planning to eat with you is very safe."  
  
"At my place."  
  
"Is that supposed to make me feel safer?"  
  
Stetson grinned hugely. "Uh-huh. No Billy. No Francine. No foreign intrigue."  
  
"No intrigue?"  
  
Stetson leaned to kiss her lightly, "Well, maybe we can work on a little domestic intrigue."  
  
"It's a date, Scarecrow."  
  
  
  
THE END.  
  
  
  



End file.
